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SPORTSMAN’S GAZETTE
25th September, 1814
Edward “The Kraken” Teach falls to Tom Cribb in stunning upset!
Stede read the headline with dismay as he ate breakfast at his club. Around him, voices rose as the news spread from those who had been at the fight and witnessed Teach’s shocking defeat due to a career ending knee injury firsthand. Stede had seen him fight once, at the beginning of his career some years before. He would never forget the lithe grace of Edward Teach in the ring, his lean body covered in tattoos, his speed and agility as he danced out of reach of his opponent while raining blows down upon him with his long arms. That’s what had earned him his nickname, “The Kraken”—that combination of reach and speed that made it seem like he had eight arms rather than two, punches coming from everywhere, impossible to guard against.
It had been an incredible display, and Stede had left the match several pounds richer and, to be frank, quite…affected by the sight. All of that skin on display, the grunts and moans of the men fighting, the sight of Teach’s bottle man sponging the blood off his brow between rounds, pouring water into his mouth, feeding him oranges for energy before patting his back and sending him back into the ring. The image of Edward Teach’s muscled arms, his arresting dark eyes under a brow glistening with sweat…Stede had imagined him in quite a different scenario involving grunting, moaning, sweating, as he took himself in hand that evening. Edward Teach remained a frequent visitor in his fantasies, even years on. To see his career end this way, when it had seemed inevitable that he would be crowned England’s boxing champion, was unthinkable. What a shame. What would Teach do now? Perhaps take a leaf out of Gentleman Jackson’s book and open a boxing salon, once his injury had healed. And perhaps, if such a salon opened, Stede could pay it a visit. What an intriguing thought.
Sportsman’s Gazette
1st November, 1815
Former bare knuckle boxing champion Edward “The Kraken” Teach opens pugilism club in St. James’ Street, Mayfair
Ed smoothed the news sheet with some satisfaction. Perhaps he’d have it framed for his wall; just the beginning, though, not the gruesome description of his injury. It had taken him almost a year to recover, some months of which had been spent at the bottom of a bottle, unwilling to face what the rest of the world had already known: his fighting career was over. He was lucky that he had kept the leg at all, let alone to still be able to stand or walk. It had taken some sharp words from Izzy Hands, his bottle man, for him to crawl out of the hole he had dig for himself and begin setting his world to rights.
“You’re better than this, Ed, and I’ve been by your side too long to watch you throw your life away.”
Izzy had been right. Ed was better than this, smarter than this, and he had made a new plan. If Gentleman Jackson could make a living on teaching bored rich toffs how to fight, then so could he. He could do anything. Assuming there were enough bored rich toffs to go around, but there seemed to be more of them every day, with more money than sense.
Ed strode down the hall from his office to the main room of the club, ignoring the lingering ache in his knee. Everything seemed to be in place: rolls of white linen bandages, basins of water, gloves for those that wanted them. Along the wall the sandbags were mounted for practicing punches and combinations, and in the center of the room: the ring. He didn’t expect anyone to use it today, but it was there, ready and waiting. And so was Ed.
He spent a few moments checking and rechecking the mounts on the sandbags, paced a few laps around the room, and finally subsided, leaning against the wall and drumming his fingers on his leg. What if no one came? Had be blown his savings on a folly? Fear was beginning to rise, acrid and sour in the back of his throat, when the door swung open, and a man strode in. Not just a man, a dandy, perfectly outfitted from his beaver hatted head to his Hessian clad feet. Ed stood up and stepped forward to greet him. The man swept off his hat to reveal a head of golden curls.
“Oh!” He said, sounding surprised. “You look different!” Ed stopped, confused.
“Sorry? Have we met?”
“No, no, of course not,” the other man replied with a laugh. “I saw you fight, years ago, against George Thompson. You won, of course. Your hair wasn’t so long then, I suppose so your opponents couldn’t pull it, and you didn’t have the beard. You were wonderful.” He paused, brown eyes shining with admiration. “I should stop nattering on and introduce myself! Stede Bonnet. Delighted to formally make your acquaintance.”
Ed blinked at him, processing this deluge of information.
“Right. Edward Teach. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bonnet,” he said. “It is just mister? Or…?” He hoped it was just mister, and he hadn’t started off his new endeavor by insulting a marquess or something. Bonnet smiled at him.
“Oh, yes, just mister. Second son of a second son, et cetera et cetera. But please, just Stede is fine. So! Where do we begin?”
Ed directed him over to some pegs on the wall where he could hang his hat and greatcoat.
“You’ll probably want to take off your tailcoat, and any jewelry or watches. I’ll leave the waistcoat and cravat up to you, however you’re most comfortable. You can place them all in this cabinet here. I have bandages or gloves to protect your hands, if you like.”
Stede began shimmying himself out of his absurdly tight tailcoat. Ed watched for a moment, lips quirked in amusement. His valet must have had a job and a half getting the thing on him over those broad shoulders. He was about to offer a helping hand when finally, the other man managed it himself. He hung it on a peg and then began divesting himself of his watch fobs, signet rings, and cravat pins. A veritable fortune of gold and gems piled up on the shelf in front of him. Finally, he loosened his cravat, folded it neatly, and laid it on the shelf, next to his little treasure trove.
“I’m never going to be able to tie that bloody thing the way my valet does, I’m afraid, but one must make sacrifices,” he said cheerfully. Ed grunted. For all his broad shoulders and well turned legs and barrel chest (alright Ed, steady on), it was hard to imagine this man throwing a punch. “What now?”
“Do you have any fighting experience?”
“Ah, well…not really. Just as a spectator. And I’ve read Mendoza’s Art of Boxing, of course.”
“I s’pose we’d better start on proper form and on your guard then,” Ed replied. “Come on over here, by the sandbags.”
“Ooh, will I get to hit those?”
“Probably not today, mate. Let’s start with getting the proper form down, we don’t want you injuring yourself. Like this.”
Ed demonstrated the proper body position, slightly crouched, upper arms parallel to the ground, fists up to guard the face. Bonnet studied him intently, then attempted to copy him. Ed straightened and stepped around him.
“May I?” Stede nodded. Ed moved in slightly closer, placing his hands gently on the other man’s hips. They were warm and solid under his hands. His buff colored trousers were tailored perfectly, hugging him tight in all the right places. He shook his head slightly, trying to focus on Bonnet’s stance and not on the appealing curve of his rear. “You want to put one foot forward, angle yourself slightly to the left, to present a smaller target to your opponent.”
“Yes, that makes sense.”
“And try to loosen up a little, bend your knees a little more.” Stede turned his head and directed that dazzling smile at Ed again.
“Perhaps I shouldn’t have worn such tight trousers!” Blood rushed to Ed’s face. And his prick. Was the man flirting with him? He honestly couldn’t tell. He cleared his throat.
“Uh. Right. Well, good thing to keep in mind for next time.” He circled back around in front of Stede again. “You’ve got your thumbs out, that’s good, and your hands are positioned in the right place. Now we’ll start with the straight left.” Ed resumed his position, well out of range, and demonstrated the punch slowly. Stede copied him, his form not half-bad. The door opened, and a group of men came in, and Ed turned to greet them. “Afternoon, gentlemen!” He turned back to Stede. “Keep practicing throwing your punch while maintaining your body position, and I’ll come back to check on you in a bit. You’ve got to build this muscle memory until it becomes second nature.” Stede nodded.
Ed went through the same routine with this new group, keeping watch on Stede out of the corner of his eye as he positioned them into the correct stance and led them through throwing a straight left. He heard footsteps coming from the back, and turned to see Izzy sidling in. He left the gentlemen to their practice.
“Izzy.”
“Not sure this lot could knock over my grandmother,” Izzy said with a curl of his lip.
“Yeah, well, ‘m not expecting to train the next bare knuckle champion, am I?”
“I fucking well hope not.” Izzy turned his head and spat on the ground, earning him a scrunched nose from Ed. “Bunch of rich twats.”
“Yeah, mate, that’s the idea. So play nice, hm? Or make yourself useful and go make us a cup of tea.”
As Izzy slunk back to the office to put the kettle on, Ed’s attention returned to Stede Bonnet. The late afternoon light filtering through the high windows bathed him in a golden glow. He was flushed and sweaty with exertion, his hair falling in damp locks over his forehead. Ed allowed himself the luxury of watching for a moment, then strode over to clap him on the shoulder.
“That’s probably enough for today, mate, you don’t want to be too sore tomorrow. Form looks good, though.” Very good, your form looks extremely good and I’d like it to be under mine— Stede beamed at him. Ed cleared his throat, jammed his hands into his pockets. “Next time we can work on jabs and eventually we’ll get to combinations.”
“That sounds lovely, Edward.”
“Ed, you can call me Ed.”
“Ed, then!” Stede said, still smiling brightly at him. “I have had an excellent time today, truly wonderful. I look forward to our next lesson!”
“Yeah. See you.”
Ed watched him all the way across the room to collect his finery, then out the door. At the last moment, Stede turned and gave him a cheery wave. Ed raised one hand in return, bemused. What an odd, fascinating man.
Stede returned the next day, and the day after, and the day after that, until his boxing lessons with Ed were a part of his regular routine, unless he had a prior engagement. And he took pains to keep those to a minimum. Occasionally he was required to put in an appearance at a garden party or have luncheon with his mother, but for the most part his days were his own, and he reserved his afternoons for Ed.
Of course, he wasn’t the only gentleman taking boxing lessons from the famous Edward Teach. His pugilism club had grown quite popular, and there were days that he and Ed only exchanged a few words as Ed made his rounds, correcting form here or demonstrating a punch there. And perhaps it was his imagination projecting his own desires, but he thought sometimes he could feel Ed’s eyes burning into him from across the room. And sometimes it seemed, when Ed came over to correct Stede’s form, his hands lingered a little longer on Stede’s hips or shoulders than on those of the other men. On the rare days that he was one of only a few people there and he could savor some of Ed’s undivided attention for a few moments, he fancied that he caught Ed’s eyes traversing his body as he punched and jabbed at the sandbags, raking over him as his shirt grew damp with sweat and clung to his chest. Sometimes he would turn his head and catch Ed looking at him while he was supposed to be watching someone else, and Ed would flush just the slightest bit above his beard, and look away.
As Stede grew more comfortable, he had taken to undressing down to just his shirt and trousers for his lessons. And if that was in part to catch Ed’s eye, well, who could blame him? He was quite possibly the most beautiful man Stede had ever seen. He had been all those years ago when Stede had first seen him in the ring, of course, but he had aged like a fine wine since then. His hair was longer now and streaked with silver that shone in the sunlight as it fell in soft waves down to his shoulders. His beard was silver too, long and waving just like his hair. His eyes were the same, dark and expressive with long, full lashes, now enhanced by creases that crinkled endearingly when he smiled or laughed. He did both quite often on those days when Stede was one of his only pupils, and they had the chance to talk and laugh together. It felt like they were becoming friends, as unlikely as that seemed. Stede would not mind at all if they were to become something…more than that, and he desperately hoped he wasn’t imagining the lingering touches and glances, that the affection and attraction he felt wasn’t one-sided.
Weeks passed in this manner, joking and laughing, lingering touches to hips and shoulders under the guise of Ed adjusting Stede’s stance, until finally Ed deemed him good enough to step into the ring with him for a practice bout. They were alone, the rest of the usual pupils already having departed. Ed wrapped his own knuckles with a roll of linen, then turned to Stede to wrap his.
“Remember, ‘m taller than you and I have a longer reach, so what should you do?” Ed asked, bent over him as he gently wrapped the linen around Stede’s hands.
“Really, Ed, I’m hardly going to tell you my strategy,” Stede said with a sniff. “I know what to do. You’ve taught me very well.” Ed looked up at him through his lashes, lips quirking in a smile.
“Mm, not that well,” he said. “‘M going to pull my punches for you, but I want you to give it all you’ve got. Let me have it, I can take it.” Stede swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. Good lord, when did his mouth get so dry.
“Ah. Yes, I daresay you can.” Ed straightened up and patted his shoulder.
“Come on, then. Into the ring.”
They climbed into the ring and took their positions. Ed had been right about muscle memory, all of Stede’s practice paid off as his body relaxed into a fighting stance and his arms instinctively went up into guard position. He watched as Ed did the same. They circled each other, feinting and dodging.
“Come on, man, throw a punch!” Ed called with a grin. “I told you, I can take it!”
Stede briefly wondered what he had gotten himself into. He didn’t want to punch Ed’s beautiful face. Ed drew closer to him, feinted with his left, and jabbed Stede in the ribs with his left.
“Ow! Did you mean to do that?” Stede yelped. Ed threw back his head and laughed.
“Of course I did, you lunatic! Now come on! Hit me! Or I’ll just keep hitting you, and I don’t think you like that very much.” He winked and clicked his tongue at Stede. Fuck, Stede thought. I am completely smitten with this man, and now I have to punch him in his handsome face. He took a deep breath, braced himself, and drove his left fist right into Ed’s jaw. Ed’s head snapped back, and he laughed again, and winced.
“Fuck! Ah, you got me, that was a good one,” he said, wincing again and rubbing his jaw. “Next time, try to rotate your body with the punch, give it a little more momentum.”
Stede nodded, and then suddenly Ed was coming at him again, feinting and jabbing. It was all he could do to block Ed’s punches with his forearms. Stede skipped backwards, trying to get out of reach, but Ed seemed to be everywhere. He stepped back again, and felt himself come up against the ropes. Ed stopped.
“You alright, Stede? We can reset in the middle, or we can be done for the day.”
“Let’s go again, one more time.”
“Ah, good man,” Ed said with a grin. They squared off again in the center of the ring. This time, Stede did his best to go on the offensive. He came out strong, ducking low to connect a jab to Ed’s ribs and another punch to his jaw. Ed stepped back, a wolfish smile growing on his face. “That’s it, Stede, good. Let me have it.” Stede skipped forward, guard up. Ed feinted once, twice, then he landed a solid blow on Stede’s cheek. Stede, barely feeling it, saw his moment and slipped into Ed’s guard, landing an uppercut into his jaw. Ed staggered back into the ropes, eyes briefly unfocused.
“Oh, shit,” Stede murmured. He rushed over, grabbing Ed’s arms. “Are you alright?”
Ed blinked, shook his head, and smiled again. His hands shot out to grab Stede’s hips.
“I’m fine. It would seem you have me on the ropes, Mr. Bonnet,” he said, voice low and gravelly.
“Yes, it would seem that I do,” Stede replied, doing his best to keep his voice even.
“What are you going to do about it?” Ed raised an eyebrow at him, his tone challenging. Stede inhaled sharply. He slid one hand up from Ed’s bicep to cup his face, leaning in until their noses were almost touching. His heart was pounding so hard he thought it might burst. Ed’s eyes darted down to Stede’s lips, and his own lips parted, ever so slightly. Stede leaned forward, closing the space between them—
The door slammed open. Stede jumped back as if he’d been scalded. Ed straightened, ran a hand through his sweaty hair.
“Ah, Lord Carstairs,” Ed called, looking over at the clock on the wall. “You’re early, I wasn’t expecting you until 6.”
“Yes, well, my wife insists I accompany her to the opera this evening. You know we must keep the ladies happy, eh Bonnet?” He directed this last bit to Stede, who mustered a weak chuckle.
“Quite, quite,” he murmured. He walked numbly out of the ring and over to collect his jewelry, waistcoat, greatcoat, and hat. Had that just happened? Had he almost kissed Ed in the middle of the boxing ring, in broad daylight? He shook his head. Behind him, he heard Ed speaking to Carstairs, forcing a laugh at another of his jokes. That’s not his real laugh, you don’t know what his real laugh sounds like. He started putting his rings and watch fobs back on, hands shaking slightly.
“Mr. Bonnet, a word before you go!” Stede’s head shot up. Ed was jogging over to him. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
Stede shouldered his greatcoat on and tucked his beaver hat beneath his arm. Ed put a hand gently between his shoulder blades, and the heat of it burned like a brand.
“Put a cold compress on your cheek so it doesn’t bruise,” Ed said loudly, looking over his shoulder to see if Lord Carstairs was watching them, but he seemed absorbed in readying himself for his lesson, his back to them. Ed dropped his voice and leaned his head in close to Stede’s.
“I’d like to continue what we were…working on, before we were interrupted,” he murmured, his eyes glittering.
“As would I,” Stede said, glancing down at Ed’s mouth. “Perhaps a…private lesson could be arranged?” Ed grinned. “I have an apartment at the Albany on Piccadilly, number 7. I am unengaged this evening, so I think you will find me quite available.”
“Very good,” Ed purred. “I’ll see you after I close up here, around 9.” He gave Stede’s bicep a squeeze, then slapped him on the back and said, louder this time, “Pleasure sparring with you, Bonnet. I look forward to our next encounter.”
Ed knocked on the door of Stede’s apartment at the Albany promptly at 9 pm that evening. He’d ushered Lord Carstairs out of the building as soon as he possibly could, mentally cursing him all the while. Then he’d rushed through his usual routine of cleaning the club, downed a meat pie and a pint from the pub next door, and given himself as thorough a wash as he could with a basin of water and a bar of soap in his office. He’d dressed in the spare shirt and trousers he kept there for emergencies, and set off into the night. He felt a fluttering in his stomach, a combination of nerves and excitement.
It had been weeks of heated glances, lingering touches, banter that edged toward flirtation without ever crossing the line. Ed had never been quite sure, never dared to believe that his interest in Stede Bonnet might be returned. He knew he was handsome, of course, he’d never lacked for partners. But Stede was refined, polished, a gentleman. Not like Ed, a brawler who made his living with his fists. Here Ed was though, knocking on a fine gentleman’s door in Mayfair.
The door opened, and there was Stede, glowing in the lamplight. He was in his shirt and trousers and stocking feet, with a banyan thrown over the top. Between his golden curls and the yellow silk of his robe, he shone like a beacon. Like a ray of sunshine. He beamed at Ed.
“Ed! Please, come in.”
He followed Stede into a well-appointed sitting room. A fire was blazing in the fireplace, a decanter and two cut crystal glasses set out on a table by the door.
“I’ve given my valet the evening off, so we are quite at our leisure,” Stede said as he began to pour the drinks. “Brandy?” He held the glass out to Ed. Ed closed the distance between them in two long steps, tossed the drink down his throat, and slammed the glass back down. Stede stared at him, eyes wide. “Ah, usually that’s more of a sip—“ Ed grabbed him around the waist and crushed his lips to Stede’s. Stede inhaled sharply, then wrapped his arms around Ed’s neck, lips softening, then parting slightly. Ed traced the tip of his tongue over Stede’s lower lip, and he moaned softly. Ed pulled back, grinning.
“Finish your drink. I have plans for you.”
Stede swallowed audibly.
“Right. Yes.” He drank his own brandy in two swallows and replaced the cup, rather more gently than Ed had, then slid his hand into the hair at the nape of Ed’s neck and pulled him back in for another kiss. Ed’s hands slid lower, grabbing Stede’s ass and pulling him closer until their bodies were flush. He nudged one knee in between his thighs, and moaned as Stede’s thigh rubbed against his balls. Stede broke off the kiss, hand still tangled in Ed’s hair. He tugged, angling Ed’s head back, and began kissing the skin of his neck. Ed moaned again, low in his throat.
“I have plans for you too, you know,” Stede murmured, before biting Ed’s neck gently. “I’ve been thinking about this for hours.” He bit down again in the same spot, harder this time, and then began to suck.
“Only hours?” Ed gasped. “I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you for weeks.” His hands slid up to Stede’s waist again, pulling at the fabric of his shirt. “Every day, watching you at the club, imagining what you’d look like under me, what you’d sound like—“ he was cut off abruptly as Stede’s mouth found his again, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. Stede’s tongue pressed against his lips, and Ed parted them readily, letting Stede’s tongue thrust into his mouth as his hips ground against Ed’s, and Ed could feel the hard line of his cock pressing against him. Stede nipped at his lower lip, and began maneuvering Ed backwards, until he felt the back of his legs bump against the edge of a couch. He sat down heavily, pulling Stede with him. Stede settled with his knees on either side of Ed’s thighs, straddling him.
“To be honest,” he said, pressing kisses down the column of Ed’s throat, “I’ve thought about this for years. Ever since the first time I saw you fight. You were—you are so beautiful.” Ed growled, a low rumble in his throat, his hands coming around again to rest on the curve of Stede’s ass.
“Thought about me, did you? Did you touch yourself?” He bucked his hips up, pressing his aching cock against Stede’s as Stede moaned into his neck.
“Yes. Yes.”
Their lips met again, tongues sliding against each other as Ed shoved the silk robe off of Stede’s shoulders and pulled at the hem of his shirt.
“Off. Let me see you. Touch you.”
Stede pulled back long enough to yank his shirt over his head, then reached for Ed’s pulling it out of his waistband. Ed grabbed his hands, stilling them for a moment.
“Wait. Christ, look at you.” The air was warm, but Stede shivered as Ed’s eyes ranged over him. Ed had been dying to see what he looked like without all his fine clothes for weeks, and the view did not disappoint; he was built like the broad side of a fucking barn. He ran his hands up Stede’s biceps to his broad shoulders, then down over his chest, running his hands over the golden hair dusting them, down to his soft belly. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to one pink nipple, relishing the sound of Stede’s sharp inhale as he opened his mouth and swirled his tongue around it. Then Stede’s hands were back on Ed’s shirt, pulling desperately. Ed hissed as the tails of his shirt slid over his aching cock and out of his pants.
“Off. Off off off—“ Stede was practically chanting. “Take it off. I want to see you now.” Ed complied, whipping his shirt the rest of the way off his head before grabbing Stede’s waist and pulling him close again, their bare chests flush and cocks rubbing against each other through the fabric of their trousers. He slid has hands back around to grab the firm flesh of Stede’s ass and nipped at the strong muscles of his shoulder where it met his neck.
“Tell me,” he said, licking a stripe up Stede’s neck. “Tell me what you thought about when you touched yourself. Did you imagine it was me?”
“Yes,” Stede gasped, throwing his head back as Ed kept pressing open-mouthed kisses to his throat, his jaw. “Your hands—ah—your mouth—Ed—“ he shuddered as Ed gently bit the lobe of his ear.
“I thought about you too,” he murmured in Stede’s ear, his voice rough and gravelly. Stede shivered, winding his hand into Ed’s hair again and grinding down against his cock until they both moaned. Ed licked the shell of Stede’s ear and whispered “I touched myself and imagined you sucking my cock with that pretty mouth.” Stede whimpered, and the hand in Ed’s hair tightened. Ed groaned. Stede pulled harder, pulling Ed’s head up until they were face to face again.
“Oh, you like that, do you,” he said archly, a smile playing about his lips. He pulled again, and a moan tore itself from Ed’s throat as his eyes fluttered shut. “Good to know.” He pulled again, hard, until Ed’s head was resting on the back of the couch, and pressed his mouth to Ed’s throat, biting and sucking. His other hand drifted down to the front of Ed’s trousers, brushing over his cock gently. Ed’s hands tightened on Stede’s ass, trying to pull him closer as his hips bucked up again, chasing some friction, some relief. Stede chuckled and Ed could feel the curve of his lips against his neck.
“Stede,” he groaned. “Please.” Stede laughed again, both of his hands going to work on Ed’s trousers. He popped the buttons free, and Ed let out a shaky exhale as Stede finally wrapped a hand around him. Stede pressed another kiss to his lips before sliding down off of Ed’s laps to kneel between his thighs. Ed looked down at him, his breath coming in short pants. He didn’t think he’d ever been this turned on in his life, like he might die if Stede didn’t move his hand. Stede just gripped him tighter, looking up at him, his brown eyes wide, cheeks flushed. The tip of his pink tongue darted out to wet his lips, and Ed groaned again.
“Stede. For the love of god—fuck!”
Stede had leaned over and taken him to the root, hand slipping down to cup and caress his balls. Ed groaned again as Stede’s head began to move, his tongue swirling over the head of Ed’s cock before the wet heat of his mouth sank down again, enveloping him. Ed couldn’t tear his eyes away from the mesmerizing sight of Stede’s golden head bobbing up and down, of his cock disappearing between those pink lips. His world narrowed to just Stede, the obscene wet sounds of his mouth sliding up and down, the velvety feeling of his tongue, the inside of his cheeks as he sucked. Ed could feel his orgasm building, coiling in his belly.
“Stede,” he panted. “I’m close, I’m gonna…”
Stede made a muffled sound around him, looked into his eyes, grabbed his hand and squeezed it once. The hand on Ed’s balls tightened gently, and he took Ed further into his mouth, swallowing around him. The feeling of his cock hitting the back of Stede’s throat pushed him over the edge, and he came with a hoarse shout, spilling down Stede’s throat as he swallowed.
Ed tipped his head back on the couch, his ears ringing. He was vaguely aware of Stede pulling off of him, patting his thigh with a chuckle before stumbling over to pour himself another glass of brandy. He lifted his head slightly to watch. The firelight cast a flickering glow over the broad planes of Stede’s chest. Ed let his eyes wander, following the trail of golden hair down from his chest to his belly before disappearing under the waistband of his trousers. His cock was still straining against his falls, a damp spot over the tip. Ed grinned. Stede looked over at him and smiled.
“You look awfully pleased.”
“Yeah, well, a very handsome man just sucked my soul out through my dick, I’m pleased as fuckin’ punch.”
“Mm, he sounds nice.”
“Come over here, I’ll tell you all about him.”
Stede replaced his glass on the table and walked back over, settling himself astride Ed’s lap again. Ed’s hands immediately went to the buttons of his trousers.
“So this man, he’s got very nice blond hair.”
“Oh, you like blonds, do you?” Stede asked, a hitch in his breath.
“I like this blond. And he’s got a very talented mouth.”
“Yes, you mentioned that already.”
“‘S worth mentioning again. Aha!” Ed popped the final button free and shoved the falls of Stede’s trousers aside, letting his cock spring free. It was flushed and pink, straining up against Stede’s belly, drops of moisture beading at the tip. “And fuck me, he’s got an amazing cock.”
“I could. Fuck you. If it’s not too much, you can just touch me, or do whatever you want—“ Ed pressed his lips to Stede’s, partially because he wanted to and partially to shut him up for a minute. He pulled back, smiling.
“Yeah. I want that. It’s not too much. I told you before: give me all you’ve got, I can take it.” Stede smiled back at him.
“You did, didn’t you,” he murmured. He leaned over and reached between the couch cushions, fishing for something, before raising his hand triumphantly. “And I told you I had plans for you too,” he said, holding a small bottle of oil. Ed snorted.
“Yeah, you did.” Stede stood up and extended his hand.
“Can I take you to bed?”
Stede took Ed’s hand and led him back to his bedroom. They had barely crossed the threshold before Ed was kissing him again, running his hands down Stede’s chest, over his belly, before circling his cock.
“Mm—bed,” Stede gasped against Ed’s mouth. “Now.” Ed pulled away and climbed onto the bed, long limbs sprawled across the coverlet. He grinned and patted the bed beside him.
“Come on. I want to hear more about your plans.”
Stede set the oil on his nightstand and climbed in after him, turning on his side and pulling Ed flush to him, tangling their legs together. He kissed him again, angling his head to deepen it, slipping his tongue into Ed’s mouth when his lips parted. He pulled Ed’s leg up over his hip and let his hand slip around, over the curve of his ass, his fingers sliding toward Ed’s entrance. He was trying desperately not to rock his hips against Ed, wanting to make this last, to be inside of him when he finally came. Ed whined low in his throat as Stede’s finger brushed against his hole. Then suddenly, he pushed Stede onto his back and climbed on top of him, straddling his thighs. His hair was falling in loose waves around his shoulders, tangled in the back where Stede had pulled it. He was so beautiful, the firelight picking out the silver in his hair, his dark eyes gleaming.
“You’ve done all the work. Let me.” Stede swallowed, and nodded. Ed reached over and took the oil from the nightstand, opening it and pouring some over his fingers. He raised up on his knees and reached one hand behind himself, moaning and rocking back as he slipped a finger inside. Stede’s hands held his thighs in a bruising grip, and he could feel the muscles flex as Ed rose and fell, fucking himself down on his finger. His head fell back, his lips parted, as he added another finger. Stede’s cock jumped, smearing over his belly. He reached one hand to squeeze at the base, breath coming in gasps as he watched Ed rock himself up and down.
“Ed,” he whispered. Ed opened his eyes, smiling down at him. His own cock was half hard again. He poured some oil into his hand and slicked it over Stede. “Ed, oh my God, Ed.” Ed raised himself up again and shuffled forward, planting one hand on Stede’s chest and reaching behind him with the other to guide Stede’s aching cock to his entrance. He sank down with a hiss, moving agonizingly slow. Stede’s hands slid up from Ed’s thighs to his hips, gripping him tightly, his knuckles white. “Oh, fuck.”
“Yeah,” Ed whispered. “Fuck. This was a good plan.” He rocked his hips again, leaning back slightly, until finally Stede was fully seated inside him. He started to move, slowly at first, circling and rocking his hips. It felt like heaven, velvety and warm.
“Feels so good,” Stede said with a gasp. “Can I…”
“Told you,” Ed panted, lifting himself up and fucking himself down on Stede’s cock. “Give it to me. All you’ve got.”
Stede surged up, flipping Ed over onto his back and driving back into him, still gripping him tightly as he snapped his hips. Ed’s eyes were closed, his cheeks flushed, head thrown back. A whimper came from deep in his throat with each slap of Stede’s hips against his ass. His cock was hard again, and one of his hands reached down to stroke it.
“Can you?” Stede gasped. “Can you come again?” Ed moaned, and nodded, biting his lip. Stede reached down, wrapping his hand around Ed’s, pumping his cock in time with his thrusts. “Do it. Come for me, I want to feel you.” Stede’s own release was building, pressure building inside of him, like flames licking down his spine. With a gasp, Ed came, wet heat spurting over both of their hands onto his belly and chest. Ed’s body clenched around Stede’s cock as his thrusts grew erratic, and he followed Ed over the edge with a shout, his cock pulsing, vision whiting out around the edges.
Time passed, how long Stede couldn’t say. Five minutes, five years, five centuries. He had collapsed on Ed’s chest, both of them panting and gasping for breath. He could hear the thundering of Ed’s heart beneath his ear. Ed’s arms came around him, stroking his damp hair and the back of his neck.
“Well, I think I did give you all I’ve got, hm?” Ed snorted.
“Yeah mate, I reckon you did.”
Stede rolled off, fishing in his nightstand for the stack of cloths he had placed there earlier, just in case. Ed laughed again.
“You really did have a plan, didn’t you, you cheeky sod.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being prepared,” Stede retorted.
They cleaned themselves up, and Ed started to get up.
“‘S late—“ he began.
“Stay,” Stede blurted. “I mean. If you want. I would like it if you stayed.” Ed looked back over his shoulder at him for a moment, eyes soft.
“Yeah, alright.” He climbed back into the bed, groaning as he sank into the mattress. “I don’t need that much convincing.” He held out his arms, and Stede settled back into them, laying his head on Ed’s chest.
“That was a very edifying lesson, Ed, but I think I might need another one in the morning.”